


A Promise

by antelucem



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, General Shenanigans, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 00:05:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1877562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antelucem/pseuds/antelucem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time he sees her, he thinks that the world has stopped. {A small story detailing a series of glances, waves, smiles, and the thoughts of an honestly smitten boy.}</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Jean is excessively awkward because infatuation is hard, and trying to act normal around Mikasa Ackerman is even harder.

The first time he sees her, he thinks that the world has stopped.

He's spending a stupid Sunday afternoon over at Jaeger's house at Marco's insistence, and he's busy kicking Jaeger's and everybody's asses at Mario Kart and _relishing_ the feeling when she first appears in the doorway, holding a bag of chips and some salsa.

When Jean sees her, something—his heart, his brain, his _soul_ or whatever makes him melt into a puddle of _what-the-fuck_ —stutters and he can't think.

Then everything kicks back into motion when she sets the food on the table and murmurs a couple of words to Eren, and his heart isn't just stuttering; it's beating so fast he's scared he's going to explode, all because he can't control himself around a _girl_.

But she's beautiful, and he isn't sure if he's staring but there's something about the smooth planes of her face and the dark curtain of her hair that's enough to keep his mind preoccupied for a couple of seconds.

"Thanks, Mikasa," Eren says, and he picks a new course to race on. Marco shifts next to Jean, and Jean's aware that everything in the world is still going on but a _seriously_ beautiful _girl just walked into the room, and_ God _, isn't anyone else seeing this?_

_Her name's Mikasa._

"Kirschstein, Jesus, did you forget how to use your _fingers_?"

Eren yells this across the room and Jean feels the tips of his ears roast, especially when the girl glances at him once before opening a book and sitting down on the couch by Eren.

"Suck a dick, Jaeger," Jean replies easily, and he pulls himself back to play the game. He's sure to throw as many shells at the back of Eren's stupid car as he can. But Eren wins this round, with a victorious grin on his face.

And Jean pretends to be pissed at the victory—okay, maybe he's actually pissed, just a little—but there are other things on his mind.

Other things meaning a beautiful girl named Mikasa sitting on a couch a couple feet away from him, her fingers flipping through a book and a crimson scarf looped around her neck.

* * *

The first time Jean talks to her, a part of him stops.

He's tripping over his words and he's nervous and he swears his heart is going to kill him again but he manages to tell her where the front office of the school is, because apparently she's transferring in and _oh God, she probably thinks I'm the world's biggest idiot_.

He's seen her a couple of more times since that afternoon at Eren's, but it's always been at Eren's house, and he wishes he could ask her why she's transferring or if she's even related to Jaeger anyway, but she's turning to leave and he doesn't have the courage anyway.

When he sees her backside, her long skirt swishing around her ankles so she can begin walking away, he feels himself panicking a little and his mouth acts before his mind can think so he blurts out, "Your hair is beautiful."

He's berating himself and ready to collapse on the concrete of the parking lot because _God, way to make it weird_.

She turns around.

He's ready for her to turn back around again, leave him in a puddle of his own humiliation, so he stares at his beat up sneakers.

"Thanks."

Then she's gone again, and Jean's glad she didn't beat him up or something.

But the word "thanks" stays in his head, and he mulls over it for the next couple of days.

* * *

When Professor Shadis asks Jean to tutor Connie, Jean almost protests before he realizes it's _Shadis_ asking him to do something, so Jean agrees.

"Fix his pronunciation," Shadis says, and Jean nods. "It's goddamn awful."

So a week later, when Connie finally finds time in his "busy schedule," although the lazy asshole really just wants to avoid any sort of help, Jean drags him over to one of the study rooms in the library.

He throws his books down onto a table, and surveys the room, which is empty except for— _wait for it, of course, thank you universe_ —

Mikasa Ackerman.

They're in the same English class, and Jean makes a fool of himself every time he sees her. And he thanks the universe again for his shit fate, because he's already in a bad mood today from Jaeger clocking him on the side of his head with a dodgeball during gym class.

Connie says a hello, and she nods back. She waves a couple of fingers at Jean, and he splutters something out about how they can totally move to another room before she shakes her head and motions for him to sit down.

"All the other rooms are full," she says in the calm, detached voice he always hears from her. He doesn't think he's ever seen her laugh, only smile a little when she's sitting at lunch with Armin and Eren. "You won't disturb me, don't worry."

So they sit down, and as soon as Connie plants his ass in the chair he plans mutiny.

"You don't even need to do this," he says, looking up at Jean.

"Shadis asked me to, and I get extra credit," Jean replies, and he throws himself in the seat opposite Connie so he doesn’t have to see Mikasa. That makes things marginally easier. "And your pronunciation still sucks balls, so we've got to fix that, okay?"

"How are you qualified?"

"I’m French, asshole," Jean says, and he flips open Connie's textbook. "Or should I say, _connard_."

"You're going to teach me how to cuss in French?" Connie's excited now, and Jean snorts.

"Of course not. But if you can read through this paragraph and sound mildly French, we'll see, _crétin_."

"Oui, Monsieur Baguette."

"That's mildly racist, Connie."

"Bite me, Monsieur Baguette."

Three sentences later, Jean is making noises in the back of his throat and Connie's making too much noise from his throat.

Jean cuts him off, and Connie looks up, irritated.

"Don't make a _hack_ sound in the back of your throat or whatever, and don't slur words. Still make everything more fluid, if that makes sense. French is melodic and pretty freakin' nice-sounding if you can do it right. So we'll take little words and I'll pronounce them with you, okay?"

They work through a couple of words, before Mikasa leaves from her seat. She waves a goodbye at Connie, and when she sees Jean, he nods briefly.

She smiles, a small quirk of her lips, in goodbye.

Before he can smile back, she's gone, and he feels the emptiness of her presence in the room.

But he feels her smile in his gut.

* * *

Jean dances around Mikasa Ackerman for the rest of the year. They don't sit close enough to each other in English, and they're nothing more than a polite hello in the hallways.

But he finds himself learning more and more about her, like how she's a veritable _genius_ and how she's also a brilliant athlete. She's reserved without being excessively cold, just unreachable.

She still manages to unhinge him.

* * *

The last day of school is a blur of photos and shouts of relief because _finals are finally fucking over_ and yearbooks.

Jean gets a ton of signatures from people he doesn't care about, signatures from acquaintances, his usual page-long letter from Marco that he rips out every year to keep away from all the insincere _HAGS_ and _It was nice talking to you_ , and even nice little notes from Jaeger and Connie. Well, as nice as it gets with mentions of "hey, horseface," and "lol Jean u dumbfuck but you a cool one."

He's walking around the school quad, waiting around for Marco to finish his shit because he's Mr. Popular, when he spots Mikasa leaning against a tree in the shade. He waves a little, and approaches her, telling himself _yeah, it really is hot today, I could stand in the shade_.

She nods, and he moves to stand next to her because _we're friends, right, I can do this, right?_

"Hi."

"Hello."

"Finish your exams?" Jean asks.

"Yes," she says.

"Excited for summer?"

"Yes."

"Well…," Jean says, shoving his hands in his pocket while searching for words because he can't get over this goddamn awkward infatuation. "I—"

"I read some of your essays this year," Mikasa says suddenly, staring at the other students in the quad.

"You—you did?" This is news to him, and he feels his stomach flop around because some of those essays were composed _very_ late at night on a _very_ tight deadline, and he feels the need to apologize all of a sudden, and where the fuck did this come from?

She looks up at him. "They were good."

He lets out a breath then, and relief floods through his veins. "Thanks."

She smiles a little, briefly, but he finds himself grinning back like an idiot.

"How, uh, how did you find them?" He asks, drumming his fingers against his yearbook.

"The instructor said you were on of the best writers in the class," she says, her tone changing to something Jean would call slightly _admirable_ if he didn't know that it was Mikasa _Ackerman_ talking to him. "I asked to read them. I liked the _Gatsby_  one the best."

"Thanks," Jean says again, and he realizes he's having an actual conversation and there's a yearbook in his hand so he might as well capitalize on his opportunities because honestly, the universe doesn't usually like him this much. "Oh, hey, do you want to sign this?"

She looks at the book, and hands him her own in exchange. "Sure."

He writes something extraordinarily generic and stupid— _Hey Mikasa! It was nice knowing you this year. Here's to many more! Jean_ —and when she hands him the book back Marco finds them, and the tiny conversation is all over, and Jean waves a goodbye to her.

She waves back.

He reads the message later, when he's alone and the Marco Message is already in its rightful place in a folder on his desk—although he would die before Marco found that out.

And he almost doesn't want to read it, wants to keep himself in suspense forever, for some strange reason.

 

_Jean,_

_You write incredibly well. See you this summer, hopefully._

_Thanks, ☺_

_Mikasa_

 

Her handwriting is small and perfect, and he thinks about his messy cursive looming in her yearbook in comparison.

But he smiles like an idiot even though it's only really a mild acknowledgement of their tentative friendship, and it sure as hell isn't a declaration of love or anything.

Because it feels like something, and Jean's more than okay with that.

His eyes latch onto the "see you this summer," and the "hopefully" coupled with it.

_Yeah_ , he thinks, _definitely something._

Something like a promise.


End file.
